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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651390">God of Love, Blind Girl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_hiems/pseuds/winter_hiems'>winter_hiems</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>L'Homme qui rit | The Man Who Laughs - Victor Hugo, The Grinning Man - Philips &amp; Teitler/Grose &amp; Morris &amp; Philips &amp; Teitler/Grose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Character, Body Image, Canon Disabled Character, Dea is a BAMF, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Falling In Love, Inspired by Eros and Psyche (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore), Mythical Beings &amp; Creatures, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, canon blind character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:58:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_hiems/pseuds/winter_hiems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Disfigured during the war against the titans, the god of love never expected a mortal princess to fall in love with him.</p><p>After an unexpected shock has terrible consequences, Dea must travel into the depths of the underworld in order to save her husband’s life.</p><p>(An Eros and Psyche AU with Gwynplaine as Eros and Dea as Psyche)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ann Bradshaw | Lady Trelaw/Linnaeus Clancharlie | Hazlitt Trelaw, Dea/Gwynplaine | Grinpayne | Gwynplaine Trelaw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mortals made the mistake of assuming that love was beautiful. The god of love knew better.
</p><p>
Perhaps it had been beautiful once, a long time ago, back when the world was new, before Josiana’s Box was opened and pain flooded out into mankind. Back then, oh so long ago, the god of love had been as beautiful as his domain.
</p><p>
But then the war with the titans, and capture, and then the god of love hadn’t been beautiful anymore. He’d escaped, of course. Love could not be contained. Gwynplaine had wrapped his face in bandages and rejoined the fight alongside his parents, the noble god of war and the fierce goddess of beauty.
</p><p>
After the fight was over, he’d had to witness his parents’ horror at what the titans had done to their child during his capture. The son of the goddess of beauty was beautiful no longer.
</p><p>
Perhaps love had been beautiful once, a long time ago, back when the world was new, but now it was an ugly thing. Aching. Painful, even after the wounds had healed.
</p><p>
He wore a scrap of cloth across the lower half of his face to hide the scars.
</p><p>
Gwynplaine had never shown his face to the mortals. The true face of love could drive a human mad. So the statues they built, while certainly conveying his essence, did not portray his disfigurement. A few quick worshippers had once managed to catch sight of the back of his head, and took the brief glimpse of fabric to mean that the god of love went around blindfolded.
</p><p>
It was inaccurate but poetic, and after that a few of his statues wore blindfolds. Gwynplaine looked at them sometimes, when he was in a dark mood. <i>You put the cloth in the wrong place, </i>he would think,<i> and I’m much more hideous than that.</i>
</p><p>
Time went on. Gwynplaine did his duty, watching over the hearts of mortals, accepting their offerings, hearing their prayers and answering them if they were deserving.
</p><p>
One day, he had a visit from his mother. Visitors were a rare occurrence in Gwynplaine’s palace on Olympus. Most of the other gods treated him as a spectacle. His story fascinated them, but Gwynplaine couldn’t bear being treated like a curiosity to be looked at and remarked on, so he never invited the other gods into his home. His parents, however, visited sometimes, and today his mother had a job for him.
</p><p>
“We have a situation,” she said, sipping on the nectar he’d offered her.
</p><p>
“What is it?”
</p><p>
“I’ve had a sharp decrease in offerings and prayers over the last year.”
</p><p>
Gwynplaine took his mother’s meaning instantly. The mortals were shallow, so worship of love and worship of beauty often went hand in hand. If something had happened down on the earth to reduce the number of his mother’s worshippers, then Gwynplaine’s worship numbers would likely also decrease. Though that hadn’t happened yet. Come to think of it, if anything he was getting<i> more</i> offerings than usual.
</p><p>
And what if the number of his mother’s worshippers stayed low? He didn’t want his mother to start to fade…
</p><p>
“Any idea what’s causing it?” Gwynplaine asked, carefully sipping his drink around the cloth binding his face. He even hid his scars from his own mother. They were, after all, an affront to beauty, an insult to her domain. Which was exactly why the titans had carved them.
</p><p>
“I’ve looked into things,” said his mother. “It seems that the mortals are worshipping someone else.”
</p><p>
“A new god of beauty?” Such things had happened before. The current sun god was not the same as the original one, and the same applied to the moon goddess. Gwyn didn’t want to see his mother replaced.
</p><p>
“Not a god. A mortal princess, her name is Dea. She is so beautiful that some claim her to be a goddess, but it’s not so. Just an ordinary human, yet her looks are apparently so stunning that the mortals leave my alters to adore her instead.”
</p><p>
“And what do you want me to do about it?” Some gods liked to use love as a punishment – making mortals fall in love with objects or animals as revenge for petty slights – but he’d thought his mother above such a thing.
</p><p>
“Nothing, for now. I want you to watch her. Find out what manner of woman she is, if she enjoys the worship, if she hates it, the effect that the adoration of crowds has on her mental state. Once we know more, I can decide what best to do.”
</p><p>
He nodded, told her he’d get right to it, and after his mother had left he spread his wings and flew to earth.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
After a few hours of silent watching and listening in the marketplace of Dea’s hometown, Gwynplaine had learned that people flocked to see her from far and wide, and she gave public audience once a week.
</p><p>
A few days later, he flew to the top of a building opposite the palace, ready to watch this week’s audience from above.
</p><p>
The crowd gathered, hundreds of mortals desperate for a glimpse of beauty.
</p><p>
The palace doors opened, and the princess was led out onto the front dais on her father’s arm, a line of guards keeping the crowd back.
</p><p>
Oh my. The princess. She was – 
</p><p>
As Gwynplaine watched, struck, Dea sat on the chair that had been placed on the dais, her father standing just behind her, and the guards allowed supplicants to come up one by one and lay gifts at her feet.
</p><p>
Eventually Gwynplaine was once more capable of coherent thought, and he watched the princess interact with her people.
</p><p>
He discovered that she was humble. When people named her goddess, she gently told them no. When they begged her for blessings, she kindly informed them that she did not have that power. There was no pretension in her.
</p><p>
With the audience over, Gwynplaine flew into the palace, watching father and daughter from above. She was holding her father’s arm, letting him guide her down the corridor.
</p><p>
“How many were there, father?”
</p><p>
“Hundreds, Dea. Hundreds. They’ve brought you such beautiful things…”
</p><p>
“I’ll take your word for it.”
</p><p>
It was then that Gwynplaine realised the princess was blind.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
He stayed some weeks more in the town, learning what he could about the princess and the way that people felt about her. No wonder he’d had an increase in prayers. Half the men in the country must be beseeching him to make Dea fall in love with them. Well, Gwynplaine had no intention of taking away her autonomy like that.
</p><p>
He knew he’d have to leave soon, but he didn’t want to. He found himself liking this gentle princess.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
One morning, news spread through the townspeople like a storm.
</p><p>
There had been a prophecy.
</p><p>
A prophecy about Dea.
</p><p>
Her father was well-versed in politics, and had wanted to know who his daughter would marry; what kind of alliance she would make. He didn’t get the answer he’d expected from the oracle. No prince or king for beautiful Dea.
</p><p>
<i>“The princess Dea will marry no mortal man. Her husband will be hideous, a creature that even the gods fear.”</i>
</p><p>
What kind of monster could inspire terror in the gods? Dea’s father didn’t know. He feared for his daughter, destined to the embraces of such a beast.
</p><p>
On the appointed day they dressed her for a wedding, but it felt more like a funeral, and, as instructed by the oracle, they led her to the top of a spire in the wilderness.
</p><p>
She stood there silhouetted against the sky, the wind pulling at her wedding gown.
</p><p>
They’d left her to wander. She took a few experimental steps, then her foot came down on nothing.
</p><p>
Dea fell, too startled even to scream. The wind had been pulling at her dress before, but now it was tearing at her with sharp, angry hands.
</p><p>
A sudden jolt. She was no longer falling. Someone had caught her, was holding her, someone had saved her. She clung to her rescuer, heart pounding, trying to get her breath back. She could hear wingbeats.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
Gwynplaine held Dea close and flew back to his palace on Olympus.
</p><p>
<i>What am I doing? </i>he thought to himself. <i>What have I done?</i>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
The townspeople saw Dea fall, but they didn’t find her body. They didn’t search for long. It could have been blown anywhere by the winds.
</p><p>
Her father suspected the worst – that the lack of a body meant that his daughter was not dead but taken, spirited away by her monstrous husband.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here’s a list of the characters and the gods that they are in this story:</p><p>Gywnplaine – Eros</p><p>Dea – Psyche</p><p>Josiana – Pandora (just a throwaway line, but I couldn’t resist!)</p><p>Ann Bradshaw/Lady Trelaw – Aphrodite</p><p>Linnaeus Clancharlie/Hazlitt Trelaw – Ares (but, like, a friendlier version of Ares</p><p>The tale of Eros and Psyche inspired the story Beauty and the Beast, and given that Gwyn and Dea literally perform Beauty and the Beast in The Grinning Man, it was pretty easy to find parallels for this AU.</p><p>Edit: Since posting this, cordiallysent (reallyhardy on tumblr) has drawn some gorgeous art for this fic. The link is in the Chapter 4 comments.</p><p>Comments and kudos are always welcome &lt;3</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I am not making money from this work.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dea had decided that she liked Gwynplaine.
</p><p>
He had saved her life, for a start, scooping her out of the air as she fell. He was kind. He let her live in his home with no expectations.
</p><p>
He had a nice singing voice. His hands were always the right temperature for holding.
</p><p>
And he didn’t obsess over the fact that she was beautiful. She knew that he thought she was beautiful – he’d told her so – but unlike her admirers in her hometown, he wasn’t always talking about her looks, or constantly trying to gain her favour. He was respectful. She liked that.
</p><p>
All in all, being married was much nicer than she’d thought it would be. Her husband was the god of love, after all.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
There were two ways in which the tale of a god carrying off a mortal would end.
</p><p>
The first was in the mortal’s pain and disgrace after they were forgotten like a flower plucked and discarded. These were mere dalliances.
</p><p>
The second was with the mortal residing in the god’s palace for the rest of their life, being treated to every pleasurable experience that the deity could provide. This was marriage. There was no formal ceremony.
</p><p>
As time passed, Dea certainly didn’t feel like she needed a ceremony to be married to Gwynplaine. He was the kindest man she’d ever known. They spent hours in each other’s company, talking of anything and everything. They would run through the halls of the palace hand in hand, laughing. They danced.
</p><p>
No longer did she have to exhibit herself before the crowds. She was free.
</p><p>
The first time she kissed him he stammered out the beginnings of half a dozen sentences before giving up on speech and cupping her face in his palms, kissing her deeply, her hand on his waist, her other hand ghosting over the silky-soft feathers of his wings.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
Occasionally, Gwynplaine grew melancholy. Dea knew that it was because of his appearance. Whenever she asked him what he looked like, he told her in no uncertain terms that he was ugly, very ugly. Dea couldn’t possibly believe him. He was the man she curled up with at night, the man who she kissed as often as possible, the god of love. How could love be ugly? How could the best man she’d ever met be hideous?
</p><p>
She knew that he had scars on his face. By now she must have traced them with her fingers a hundred times or more. But she refused to believe that they made him ugly.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
There was only one thing which stopped her happiness from being absolute: she’d been living with Gwynplaine for some time now, and she was starting to miss her father.
</p><p>
Dea hoped that he was alright. Before her beauty had made her famous, theirs had been a poor kingdom. Hopefully the gifts from her many suitors would be enough for Ursus to keep the kingdom running.
</p><p>
She did wish that her father had been stronger, more reasolute; that he hadn’t given into the prophecy so easily. It hadn’t even been an accurate prophecy: Dea couldn’t believe that Gwynplaine was hideous, nor could she imagine anyone being afraid of him. Still, she couldn’t remain angry at her father. If it weren’t for his sending her to the spire on the oracle’s orders, she would never have met Gwyn.
</p><p>
Dea hoped that he wasn’t too worried about her. Hopefully he’d seen Gwynplaine catch her as she fell, and he’d know that she was alright, and that she was with someone who cared about her.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
She was walking in the garden when she heard a sudden rush of air, a thud, and her father calling her name. After a moment, he was grasping her shoulders tightly.
</p><p>
“Dea, thank the gods! Are you alright?”
</p><p>
“I’m fine, but father… how did you get here?”
</p><p>
“Made some offerings to some wind spirits. They agreed to carry me to you. I’m going to take you back home.”
</p><p>
Dea pushed her father back gently, but he still clung to her. “No, it’s alright father, I’m alright. I’m happy here. The prophecy was wrong, my husband isn’t a monster, he’s very kind.”
</p><p>
“Dea, he <i>kidnapped</i> you.”
</p><p>
“No, I fell and he caught me. You were the one who put me on the spire in the first place! And I’m happy with him, I really am.” Dea paused. “You can stay for dinner!” she added hastily. “You’ll see that everything’s fine, and then you can go back home knowing that I’m alright.”
</p><p>
Ursus’ voice shook. “Dea, your husband isn’t human. Terrible – terrible things happen to humans that get mixed up with gods.”
</p><p>
“Father, nothing bad will happen –”
</p><p>
Which was when Gwynplaine’s voice broke into the garden, accompanied by footsteps. “Dea? I heard voices.”
</p><p>
She opened her mouth to say that her father was here to visit, but before she could speak a word, Ursus was pushing her behind him roughly.
</p><p>
Her father’s voice was full of fear and horror. “My gods… <i>what are you</i>? What in the name of Hades are you?”
</p><p>
“I…” Gwynplaine took a shuddering breath. “Dea?”
</p><p>
“Gwynplaine?” She tried to twist out of her father’s grip to go to him, but Ursus’ hands were too strong.
</p><p>
Gwyn sounded defeated. “Do you believe me now? When I said that you wouldn’t be able to love me if you could see me?”
</p><p>
“Gwyn, what –”
</p><p>
There was a rush of air and the sound of huge wingbeats, and then Gwynplaine was gone.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
At first, Dea was too shocked to speak, and then she was furious at her father, at his reaction to Gwynplaine’s appearance, how it had made Gwynplaine run away.
</p><p>
(“His face, Dea… I’ve never seen anything like that.”)
</p><p>
(“I already knew he had scars! You didn’t have to act like he was horrible! And now he’s gone!”)
</p><p>
(“Dea, you couldn’t see him!”)
</p><p>
To her frustration, she had started to cry, and then Ursus had been all apology, and saying that perhaps it was for the best. After all, relationships between gods and mortals usually ended badly for the mortals. He could take her back home.
</p><p>
She told him to leave without her.
</p><p>
He went.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
The palace felt smaller without Gwynplaine. Dea trod the corridors like a caged animal. The spirit servants brought her food, and sometimes she ate, but she didn’t taste it.
</p><p>
She was waiting for Gwynplaine to come back, to hold her, to tell her that he knew she loved him.
</p><p>
The bed they shared felt too large and cold without him. Before, she’d always enjoyed the softness of the sheets against her skin, but now they felt too soft for her grief. Dea took to sleeping on a narrow bed in a spare room.
</p><p>
What if he thought she didn’t love him anymore?
</p><p>
What if he never came back?
</p><p>
Gods didn’t age. Time would have no affect on Gwyn; what if it took him decades to come back, when she was an old woman, or dead?
</p><p>
“Gwyn, can you hear me?” she asked the empty air, tears streaming down her face, “It’s Dea. I still love you. Come back.”
</p><p>
The next day, there was a sudden presence in the corner of the room.
</p><p>
“You said you still loved him.”
</p><p>
Dea’s head turned towards the speaker. “Who’s there? Where’s Gwynplaine? How did you hear my prayer? I wasn’t praying to you, I was praying to Gwynplaine.”
</p><p>
The woman, whoever she was, walked a few paces, her skirts whispering on the polished stone floor. “Gwynplaine is not taking prayers at this moment. Before he was born, I was goddess of love and beauty. Now that he is… indisposed, I have resumed that part of my duties.”
</p><p>
“‘Indisposed?’ Has something happened to him?”
</p><p>
An almost imperceptible sigh. “He thinks that you don’t love him anymore, now that you know the effect his face has on sighted people. And when the god of love experiences heartbreak… it’s killing him.”
</p><p>
Dea sank to the floor. “No no no no. He can’t die. He can’t die, I love him.” She turned her head towards where she thought the woman was. “I don’t care if he has scars! Take me to him, I’ll tell him.”
</p><p>
“I’m afraid he may not believe you.” There was sadness in the woman’s voice. “He fell out of the sky into my home… I hadn’t seen him without bandages in years. My own son, and he wouldn’t let me see his face. He must have trusted you very much to remove the bandages in your presence, even though you couldn’t see the scars.”
</p><p>
Realisation dawned. “You’re Ann. His mother.”
</p><p>
“Yes.”
</p><p>
“But if he doesn’t believe me – I have to save him! I have to find a way to save him, I can’t let him die.”
</p><p>
There was a pause. “I think that there may be a way. I myself cannot do it. I’m forbidden to enter the realm of the dead without invite, but a mortal like you… it would be dangerous, but you might survive.”
</p><p>
“I’ll do it.” For Dea, it wasn’t even a decision. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
</p><p>
There was a rustle of fabric as the woman sat beside Dea. “It will not be a kind solution for you, I’m afraid. The only way to save Gwynplaine is with water from the river Lethe. If he is exposed to it – if even a drop touches his skin – it will wipe his mind of the past year. He will no longer remember you.”
</p><p>
Dea was unable to suppress a gasp.
</p><p>
“And,” the goddess continued, “If he doesn’t remember you, then his heart won’t be broken over you. He will live.”
</p><p>
“Is there no other way?” Dea asked, unable to hide the desperation and desolation in her voice.
</p><p>
“My son believes that you will no longer love him now that you know the degree of his disfigurement. He also knows that you’re kind, and you would say that you loved him even if you didn’t, just because those words might save his life. I – I’m afraid I can’t think of any way of convincing him of your sincerity. And unless we can find a way to heal his heartbreak, Lethe water is his only chance.”
</p><p>
There was a lump in Dea’s throat. Her voice sounded hollow. “I’ll do it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*insert crimson lethe reference here*</p><p>I always found it incredibly cute that in The Man Who Laughs, Gwynplaine and Dea consider themselves married even without an official ceremony.</p><p>Gwynplaine having a good singing voice is both book canon and musician canon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dea packed provisions from the kitchen, dressed in clothes suitable for travel, and for the first time in months, left the palace on Olympus.
</p><p>
She trudged down the slopes of the mountain, determined and depressed in equal measure.
</p><p>
She had to save Gwynplaine. She had to make him forget her.
</p><p>
The air was thick with the scent of flowers, the sun’s warmth was gentle on her skin, the breeze cooled her as she walked, and Dea couldn’t enjoy any of it.
</p><p>
She walked on.
</p><p>
She spent a night sleeping on the mountainside, wrapped in her cloak against the cold, then another day descending, another night in the open, and another day walking.
</p><p>
The trick was to find the place where the mortal realm and the mountain of the gods met each other; the mingling of real and ethereal.
</p><p>
Dea was blind. She wouldn’t be able to see it; she simply had to trust that she would find it anyway.
</p><p>
In the third afternoon of walking, Dea heard a river. It was very quiet. She almost missed the smooth rush of water, but she’d been listening for the sound of running water for so long that it didn’t escape her.
</p><p>
Carefully, she approached the source of the sound step by cautious step, drawing back when her toe found nothingness, to stand on the riverbank.
</p><p>
“I seek passage to the underworld,” she called out to the river she couldn’t see.
</p><p>
“Why would I take a mortal to such a place?” The voice was cold and slightly mocking.
</p><p>
Dea reached into her bag and pulled out two coins. She had no idea what they were made of, but she hoped it was gold. “I can pay. I’ll give you one coin for passage and another to ignore the fact that I’m mortal. I have more; I can pay for the return journey as well.”
</p><p>
“Hm,” said the ferryman. “There may not be a return journey.”
</p><p>
All the same, Dea heard something bump into the riverbank, and then a rough pair of hands were taking the coins from her and pulling her into the boat.
</p><p>
The ferryman didn’t talk while he worked. As he poled the boat across, the temperature dropped until Dea was very glad of her cloak. She felt a jolt, and then the ferryman was telling her to get out, “No, not on that side, land’s on the other side,” leaving her standing on the shore of the underworld.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
Dea knew that the Lethe bordered Elysium, but aside from that she had no idea where it might be, or indeed, which area of the underworld the ferryman had dropped her in.
</p><p>
Deciding that at least it would mean knowing her way back, Dea put the river on her right and walked along the bank into the unknown.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
She had been walking for a long time when she became aware that something was following her. Steps crunching in the dirt off to her left. Silent padding that followed just behind her every move.
</p><p>
After a time, she couldn’t bear it. Dea stood stock still and drew her knife. As she clenched the blade in her right hand, she knew that she’d have little luck in a fight. She’d have to hope that blind stabbing would do the job.
</p><p>
The silence stretched out.
</p><p>
Dea was preparing to throw caution to the wind and sprint away when footsteps came towards her and a damp nose pressed against her left arm, sniffing curiously.
</p><p>
Whatever it was, it didn’t want to hurt her. Dea sheathed her knife and turned to examine the animal that had taken an interest in her.
</p><p>
Gently exploring with her hands, she found that it was a wolf. A hellhound, perhaps.
</p><p>
“Hello,” she said to it, pulling a strip of dried meat from her pack and offering it to the wolf, who snarfed it down quickly, “I’m lost. I’m trying to get to the river Lethe, do you know where that is?”
</p><p>
The wolf licked her palm, then turned and started walking. Keeping her hand on the wolf’s back, Dea followed.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
It took a long time to get anywhere in the underworld, Dea discovered. She didn’t know how long they’d been walking, but… a long time. Strangely enough, she didn’t feel hungry or thirsty, so she couldn’t even use her body’s requirements to estimate how long she’d been walking beside the wolf. If it had been the upper world she could have judged day and night by periods of warmth and cold, but down here it was the same constant degree of too-cold-to-be-comfortable.
</p><p>
When the wolf stopped, it took her a few seconds to register that she didn’t need to keep walking. The monotonous rhythm of the journey had left her dazed.
</p><p>
She could hear a slow-moving river up ahead. The scent of the water made her want to yawn, but she suppressed the instinct. This was important. Gwynplaine’s life depended on her.
</p><p>
Dea had come prepared. Kneeling down, she found the riverbank. From her pack she took out a vial tied to a piece of string, and she held the string to lower the vial into the water so as to avoid any chance that a drop might touch her skin. That done, she held the string up and dried the outside of the vial with a rag, discarding the rag afterwards. Dea had no idea how potent Lethe water might be to a mortal, and she didn’t want to find out.
</p><p>
She stoppered the vial and placed it carefully in her pack, then rose and found the wolf again.
</p><p>
“Can you take me back to the other river?” she asked the wolf as she stroked its fur. “I need to get back to the mortal world. I’m going back to Olympus to save my love, Gwynplaine.”
</p><p>
The wolf started off again, back the way they had come.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
Climbing up Olympus was much harder than climbing down. All the hunger and thirst and exhaustion that she hadn’t felt during her hours – maybe days – of walking in the underworld fell upon her the second she returned to the realm of the living. Some food from her pack and a sip of water from her canteen hadn’t done much to restore her strength, but she struggled up the mountain anyway, well aware that she didn’t know which direction she was meant to take, other than <i>up</i>.
</p><p>
She wished she still had the wolf there to guide her, but it was back in the underworld now, and Dea was alone.
</p><p>
Alone, climbing a mountain, towards a destination that she couldn’t see.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
Two days later, and Dea knew that she hadn’t made good progress. She was still going up, but she was so very tired, so weak. She’d run out of water that morning, and was feeling the thirst in the back of her throat.
</p><p>
Her footsteps began to stagger. She tripped on an unseen rock and fell to her knees.
</p><p>
Crouched, her hands gripping the grass she had come to rest on, Dea prayed. “Ann? Can you hear me? I’ve got the Lethe water. I can save Gwynplaine. I can – I can save…”
</p><p>
Her head drooped, and she passed out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mojo/homo is here! As far as I know, Greek mythology doesn’t specifically have hellhounds aside from Cerberus, but this is fanfic so I can do what I want.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gwyn lay in his bed and burned.
</p><p>
The ache was in his head, in his heart. All he could think of was the horror on Dea’s face when her father had reacted to his appearance.
</p><p>
<i>She knows what I am. She knows that I’m hideous. She knows that I’m a monster.
</i></p><p>
Sometimes he slept. In his dreams he wore chains, and titans took their knives to his face all over again.
</p><p>
From time to time his mother would be with him, pressing him to drink a cup of nectar, laying cooling cloths on his brow. It didn’t help.
</p><p>
His father came too, held his hand, told him to be brave.
</p><p>
Both his parents tried to convince him that Dea still loved him, but what did they know? They hadn’t been there, they hadn’t seen how she’d reacted…
</p><p>
Gwyn had always known that Dea wouldn’t be able to love him if she could see his face. He’d even tried to tell her that he was ugly, had described the mutilation as much as he could bear to, and she’d claimed not to care.
</p><p>
But saying that she didn’t mind marriage to a disfigured god was very different from finding out how her father would react to something like that. For all Gwynplaine knew, Dea was back at home with her father. With any luck she’d forget him and settle down with some kind prince.
</p><p>
He tried to picture Dea happily married to some other man, and the pain in his head got so bad that he cried out.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
Somewhere outside his haze of pain, someone was shouting. The sound broke through the fog in his mind. The cries sounded urgent.
</p><p>
Without event the barest hint of a plan, Gwynplaine forced himself to sit up, groaning with the effort. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and gasped as he stood. One of his knees threatened to give out, but somehow he made it to the doorway and into the corridor. What he saw there threatened to stop his heart.
</p><p>
His parents stood in the hallway, Dea’s unconscious body cradled in his father’s arms. She was barely breathing.
</p><p>
“No…” rasped Gwynplaine. “No no no, what happened to her?”
</p><p>
“She went to the underworld,” his mother said.
</p><p>
“The underworld? What – why?”
</p><p>
His father moved past him into Gwynplaine’s room, laying Dea on the bed. That done, the god of war poured a glass of water from a jug on a side table and poured a trickled down Dea’s throat.
</p><p>
All Gwynplaine could do was stand and stare. He felt numb. “Is she going to die?”
</p><p>
“It’s too early to tell,” said his father, whose expertise lay more in the realm of battlefield medicine. “She spent a very long time in the underworld, and did not eat or drink. Perhaps she didn’t know that hunger, thirst, and exhaustion would still take their toll on her body, even though she would have felt no desire for sleep or nourishment in the land of the dead. She’s incredibly fatigued.”
</p><p>
Gwyn sank to his knees beside the bed. “Why was she in the underworld?” he repeated in a whisper, not even caring that both his parents were seeing him with his face uncovered.
</p><p>
“She was trying to find a way to save you,” said his mother, kneeling beside him. “Dea collected a vial of water from the river Lethe.”
</p><p>
Gwynplaine jerked away from her. “You were going to wipe my memory?”
</p><p>
“I would have asked for your consent first. Gwynplaine, you were dying. The only way to save you was either to convince you that Dea truly did love you, or for you to no longer love Dea. And there was no way that you would simply stop loving her. The only way to stop your broken heart from killing you was for you to forget her entirely. Gods are forbidden from entering the underworld without permission, so Dea agreed to collect the water herself.” His mother bowed her head. “And now she’s paying the price for it.”
</p><p>
It was too much, it was all too much. Gwynplaine put his head in his hands and began to sob. “She has to live. She has to live. She went to the underworld to save me, she has to live.”
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
Dea woke in an unfamiliar bed. Every part of her felt weak and over-strained. She shifted against the pillows.
</p><p>
“Dea?”
</p><p>
She never thought she’d hear that voice again. “Gywnplaine?”
</p><p>
In an instant she was in his arms. Dea ran her fingers through is hair, traced her fingers over his jaw, over his scars. She cupped his face in her hands. “Gwynplaine, are you alright? Your mother said you were sick…”
</p><p>
“I’m fine, Dea,” he said softly. “I’m fine. You – you went to the underworld to save me.”
</p><p>
She smiled sadly. “Yes I did.”
</p><p>
“I thought…” Dea heard him sigh. “I thought after how your father reacted, that you would realise – how I look. That you wouldn’t be able to love me anymore.”
</p><p>
“Gwynplaine, I love you. Do you believe me?”
</p><p>
“Yes,” he said, sounding semi-shocked.
</p><p>
“And you’re not dying anymore?”
</p><p>
“No, not anymore, but Dea, oh Dea, you are. The journey to the underworld took too much of a toll on you. You’re –” Gwyn choked back a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not worth you dying. You shouldn’t have gone to the underworld to save me, Dea. It wasn’t worth your life. And there’s a way for you to survive this, but you’ll have to change, and I don’t want you to feel forced into making the decision but… but otherwise you will die, and I don’t want you to die, Dea. You’re everything to me.”
</p><p>
She was wrapped in his arms, and Dea knew that if it weren’t for Gwynplaine holding her she would still be lying on the bed, too feeble to move.
</p><p>
“What’s the way for me to survive?” she hoped dearly that it didn’t involve Lethe water. Dea was so relieved that Gwynplaine no longer needed to forget her that she could have wept.
</p><p>
Gwyn pulled back slightly, gently letting Dea lie down again. “Between me and my parents we have three gods. That’s enough to grant you eternal life. It’s the only way you’ll live through this. But I don’t want you to accept this out of a sense of duty, and I want you to know that if you do agree to become immortal then I won’t ask you to stay with me. If it weren’t for me, you would still be perfectly fine. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be forced to choose between immortality and death. I should have had more faith in you.”
</p><p>
Dea felt exhausted. She could have fallen asleep then and there, but she held on to consciousness with an iron grip. “Gwynplaine, if it weren’t for you I’d still be sitting in a palace with a hundred suitors outside clamouring for my hand even though none of them had ever had a conversation with me. If the choice is between death and an eternity that I could spend with you then it’s a very easy decision to make, love.”
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>
The immortal princess Dea was married to no mortal man. Many who looked upon her husband would call him hideous, and she had some very emphatic opinions about that particular adjective, as several Olympians discovered shortly after her ascension to godhood.
</p><p>
In the end it was decided that she would become goddess of bravery. After all, she had travelled into the underworld and nearly died in order to save the man she loved, and she was married to the god of love.
</p><p>
And even the gods fear love at times.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>After Dea became immortal, she and Gwyn definitely went back to the underworld to adopt Mojo/Homo.</p><p>The ironic thing here is that the name 'Dea. literally translates to 'goddess'. Victor Hugo did this deliberately: Ursus means bear (animal), Homo means man (human), and Dea means goddess. Animal, human, and deity.</p><p>Perfect honesty here: I wrote the majority of this chapter on 4-5 hours of sleep and it is not up to my usual standards.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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